Angels Cry
by IAmAChinchilla
Summary: Erik's house a fortnight after he has abducted Christine. He finds her gazing at her locket of Raoul and...you'll see! Leroux based. My first phic.
1. Chapter 1

She stood in the drawing room in front of the fire, staring down at the locket held tenderly in her hand. Erik had left her alone in his house for a few hours; he had gone 'out shopping'. She sighed as she ran her finger lightly down the small picture of Raoul she held. She could never believe that she would never see him again…yet Erik had said she was to remain with _him_, underground, _forever_. She quietly cried, the tears running down her cheeks reminders of that…forever. It had only been a fortnight or so of those horrid tears which she dared not show when Erik was near; for she still kept hope, albeit feeble, that Erik might change his mind and allow her to leave. He had gone mad with love; he frightened her so.

She heard a door open and close behind her and felt Erik's presence in the room; felt his yellow eyes watching her from behind. She closed her eyes like a child afraid of the dark as she heard him coming closer… But she turned quickly and they snapped open as she realized that he was getting quite close to her now. She hid the locket behind her back, praying he had not seen it.

As he approached slowly, he gazed sadly, longingly down at her, until he was standing directly in front of her. He broke the tension, after a few moments, as he hesitantly reached a finger out and tilted her chin up towards his masked face. She was reluctant to look at him, but at least she would not have to look at that terrible death's head again…Slowly she let her eyes lift up to his.

His firey yellow eyes were shaking with barely restrained emotion, with a strange mixture of hope and sadness...and love. After a moment, he reached his other hand out to her and said, in an almost painfully controlled voice, "Christine…" he said the word like it was sacred, like he was fearful the heavens would tear him asunder should he utter it without permission; his eyes were fixed on hers, commanding, yet begging for mercy, afraid... "Give me the locket."

"Give you what, monsieur?" she replied, but it was a pitiful façade of courage, for her were eyes too were filled with fear.

He visibly became more rigid, angrier, yet even more fearful, in a way. She still clutched the locket in her hand, holding it behind her back.

He sighed. "Hand it to me." He said more roughly. At her silence, he grabbed her wrist and quickly pulled the heart shaped trinket out of her reach. Looking quickly down at it, he saw the picture of _her handsome vicomte_, with his golden hair and his bright blue eyes… Restraining himself, he looked back at Christine, trying to hide his sadness, his disappointment, his rage. Until Christine suddenly became bolder "He _will_ come for me! He _will_ rescue me from you, monster!" she yelled in his face.

His eyes glowed and he grasped her wrists, pinned her against the wall. She beat at his chest, but he was unaffected by her weak struggle against him. "I do not believe you quite understand the situation you are in here, mademoiselle…You are mine, _mine_, and will never belong to anybody else, least of all you precious little _vicomte! _ I _love_ you, love you more than you could possibly imagine, but I could snap your neck easier than a twig, should I ever _find the need!"_ he hissed violently in her face.

Her face was covered in tears, her eyes full of fear, and he soon felt a the painful jolts of guilt, cursing himself for letting that old habit of rage escape enough to threaten her. Threaten her! He knew he could _never_ hurt her, and hoped she understood that he did love her more than either of them could ever dream. He was about to let her go when her eyes became defiant, staring up into his, those blue orbs glistening with tears, shaking with this new feeling of hate.

"Then do it." She challenged. His eyes flashed, still glowing; his breathing was hard. Slowly, however, you could see his eyes change from anger to love to hopelessness. He threw her to the ground with a loud moan, and turned away quickly, his hand covering his eyes, which were now filled with tears. Christine cowered, huddled in the corner where he had dropped her, amazed at her own courage, afraid of what the cost would be… She soon felt guilt, pity for this man that loved her so, yet she could never love in return. He was so unpredictable, so mysterious, so terrifying!

A tense moment dragged on for eternities, until Erik finally sighed and spoke softly, so softly the girl behind him could barely hear.

"Christine… I'm sorry. Go back to your room."

She rose slowly, her eyes fixed on his back. She stood for a moment in confusion.

"Christine, go to your room!" he said louder, but with his voice quivering as though he were crying.

She obeyed silently, and, watching from behind the safety of the crack in her slightly opened door, saw Erik, that man, that monster, that angel…weep.


	2. Chapter 2

Christine watched until she saw Erik turn around and remove his mask, whereupon she closed her eyes quickly and shut the door softly. Opening them again and turning around, she could feel her own tears running uselessly down her cheeks, which were red from the excitement a few minutes before.

Walking slowly over to the edge of her bed, she could still hear Erik's muffled sobs outside her door and down the hallway. There was so much crying in this house, it seemed almost all there was! Tears and darkness and music and Erik… She sighed shakily and sat down. Glancing down at her wrists, she saw they were red and bruised from when Erik had pushed her against the wall and threatened her. Taking one wrist in her other hand, she tried to think clearly, to straighten out her spiraling thoughts…

Oh, how she missed light and laughter and Raoul! She missed running and dancing and singing, so carefree like she used to! Well, there was plenty of singing here, of course, if they weren't crying it seemed to occupy most of their time together, but it was not the same as _aboveground_. And then there was what Erik had said. She knew well that Erik certainly could hurt, even kill her with no more effort than a flick of his wrist!... But somehow she knew he wouldn't, somehow she had found the courage, or idiocy, to tell him so, to challenge him to carry through with such a gruesome threat!

_Oh, mad Christine, what have you made for yourself now? _She thought bitterly to herself.

But Erik always said how much he loved her…that without her he would surely die. He said he loved her beyond her wildest dreams.

_Yes, beyond my wildest nightmares perhaps!_ _But still…poor, unhappy Erik.__I do wish I could love him like he wants me to, just… oh, poor Erik. _And it was with these thoughts she finally drifted off to sleep.

Erik lay in his room, his coffin, down the hall from Christine's Louis-Philippe room. She had been watching him he knew, for he knew everything, but he did not care. He couldn't stop those tears which threatened to drown him, which ruthlessly poured from those black eye sockets in that death's head… Let her see. Let her see what she did to him, how she had reduced him to this lovesick, whimpering dog which loved and adored her beyond all sane reason. Just let her.

She was doing it even now; just the thought of her sleeping form, so innocent and beautiful, so close yet so far from him, made his own sleep nearly impossible. Her face haunted his dreams; he could remember her eyes so frightened looking up into his, he saw her smile and laugh with that _boy_ when she thought she was safe from Erik's gaze. He painfully recalled her scream when she had finally seen him, when she had torn his mask away to reveal...

...they always screamed when they saw him, everybody...

Oh, but why did she have to see him! She, a true angel sent from heaven itself, should never be subjected to such nightmares inspired by his hideousness; she should never suffer anything by his doing, by anybody's!

He suddenly had the terrifying thought that he might have hurt her, for he had clutched her delicate wrists quite hard in his outburst. Guilt and fear flooded into his mind; how could he have hurt her?! Oh, Erik, you great booby, you fool!

He began to feel tears forming in his eyes. He had to see, he had to know if he had hurt his angel.

Getting up quietly and making sure to grab his mask on the way out, he made his way down the hall to Christine's room, trying to be especially silent even though he knew nobody could ever hear him if he did not wish it. He hesitated at her closed door, his hand inches away from the knob; he had promised he would not enter her room without her permission…but she would never know. And he was only doing it to see if he had hurt her, the poor lovely creature, and besides, oaths are made to catch gulls with. He listened intently for any sounds of her waking. The last thing he needed was for her to wake up, with him sneaking into her private room while she was asleep, and be frightened out of her wits…again.

He shook his head and sighed as, hearing nothing; he opened the door just enough so he could slide in and join the shadows in the corner of her room.

Turning his gaze, he was met with the most beautiful, entrancing sight he had ever dreamed. She was the image of beauty, innocence; with her long, golden hair strewn across the pillow and her face, her eyes closed away from the dark of this world and lost in their own quiet dreams. She was practically glowing in the dreadful gloom underground; her soft breathing filled the air with its rhythmic gentleness. The sight brought fresh tears to the man hiding in her room as he could feel his poor heart clenching within itself with love for her.

He stood for a few moments, gazing in wonder at the apparition of his greatest dreams and most tormenting nightmares, until he suddenly remembered why he had come. Reluctantly breaking the magic, he took a few steps toward her, watching her face for signs of consciousness. He turned his stare down to her wrists which were lying gently over her stomach as she slept. They were red and dark where he had clutched them.

He attempted to hide the loud moan which threatened to escape him at that moment, for fear Christine would awaken, but still it managed to sound. He watched terrified as he saw her stir…


	3. Chapter 3

_She was in a dark corridor. There was fire, furnaces showing evil shadows which laughed at her in her fear. She saw spiders. It was so dark. She started running, running past the shadows and spiders and darkness. Was there no light here? She fell and saw mirrors. Why were there so many mirrors? And…a tree? What…? Suddenly, she heard a click. It was now so hot, burning, scorching her! She heard a crash, a crash so loud it shook the whole room! She heard screaming, and saw the chandelier falling, crashing onto those innocent people. Such screams! Now it was dark again…so, so, so dark! But she could see two lights in the distance, dancing over a lake; two glowing, yellow lights. She went towards them. She was floating, flying through the darkness. There was nothing but those lights. Eyes. Erik's eyes. They glared at her, threatening her. Then they changed. They were apologizing, and then loving. Why couldn't they stop changing? Stop! They got closer, louder… she heard a moan- _

She bolted upright in the bed, cold sweat running past her temples and down her cheeks. Breathing hard with her hand over her heart, she could have sworn she saw those yellow eyes for a brief moment, but they disappeared as quickly. She very slowly relaxed and attempted to calm herself, sitting back a little and looking around. Seeing nothing, she attempted to steady her breathing.

"It was…it was just a nightmare…" she reassured herself quietly, tears now mixing with sweat. Her hand ran up from her over her disquiet heart to her neck. She hesitated and stiffened for a second until she realized she no longer had the locket of Raoul; Erik had never given it back. _And most likely never will_…she thought sadly.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Darting back into the shadow, which was not hard in the dark room, Erik blended in with the black opacity behind him, as he so often had done before, though never in such circumstances… He should leave soon- he could easily sneak out without her notice… but somehow he couldn't stop watching her, he didn't want to leave. Not yet.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Christine sighed, trembling, as she lay back down onto the pillows. Looking up at the ceiling, she whispered faintly to herself "Oh…it's so frightening here, but it was… just a dream. Why am I so afraid?"

She pushed the covers away and lit the candle on the bedside table. The man watching her withheld a gasp at the sight of her scantily concealed body in the thin nightgown, whilst falling further back into the shadows.

Christine pushed back her tangled hair and lifted the candle just enough to make out her way over to the bathroom. Walking over, she quickened her steps a bit when she thought she saw a slight movement in the corner, by the vanity. Shaking her head, she entered the bathroom, lit the lamp, and closed the door behind her. Looking into the mirror, she again had the sensation of feeling somebody was in her room, for she heard an ever so quiet rustle outside. She shivered and locked the door; it was just because of her nightmare, after all…

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------When she shut the door behind her and he heard the lock click, Erik slowly let out the breath he had been holding in both fear and awe. His poor, lovely Christine; he had known she would have nightmares about him. _Her dream had to be about you, nothing else could frighten her so…_He remembered the look on her face, the same look of horror and repulsion he had had the honor of receiving in person when she had first seen him. She must have seen him again, though a pity it had to be in her sleep.

He smiled half mockingly, half regretfully at himself as he glanced over at the bathroom's locked door.

_Poor Christine, it must have been so terrible, having those dreams without her precious picture of- what was his name? Changy?... _he thought, sarcastic and bitter. Then he realized what he was saying, who he was talking about.

_Oh, Erik! You truly are a monster. How could you think such things…? She has done nothing. _

Sighing deeply, his sarcasm and resentment faded and were replaced by a strange, detached sadness as he thought of everything he had done to her. _You deserve much worse…_

He reached a skeletal hand into his pocket and retrieved the locket he had taken just hours ago, glaring down at it with disdain. He laid it down onto the vanity grimly. She would find it there and be happy, for a while. Until she thought of how it had gotten there and she would know Erik had been in her room. But it did not matter. He was sure she already hated him as much as her sweet little heart could stand.

His face was emotionless except for a faint, sad smile as he thought about how happy she would look when she found it. He remembered what she had confessed to herself minutes before…she was so afraid…of him, of this place. Erik felt his heart beginning the routine of ripping itself in two. He loved her, he loved her so, but she had seen him, and therefore could never leave! She would not return to see her poor Erik, and he would not see her again! But she did not belong here…

Anger began to rise up in his twisted mind- angry that he could not let her go, angry that he was no longer her 'angel of music', angry that she would run off with that idiotic little _vicomte _the first chance she got, angry that he frightened her so. Closing his eyes and trying to take control over himself again, he whispered "Never be afraid, my Christine…" and left the room before she emerged from the bathroom.

**A/N Hello peoples! Thankies for all the wonderful reviews! I'm not so sure about this chapter, plz tell me what you think. Luv ya.**


	4. Chapter 4

The sun was just peeking over the many towers and buildings of Paris. Pink and yellow clouds drifted lazily across the still dark sky, their gossamer haze reflecting morning's arrival. The crisp, cold taste of early day filled the stale air, mixing with the many smells and vague traces of the city, while in the distance you could hear bells blending with the chiming of birds. A cold wind swirled autumn leaves past tidy rows of houses, chilling the people just waking to their boring, everyday lives. However, within the quickly disappearing darkness, against the golden sky, one shadow stood out darker than the rest; one that appeared to be clinging leisurely to the wings of Apollo far, far above the 'normal' world.

As Erik watched the awaking world beneath him with jealous eyes, sinking back into the concealing shadow of Apollo, he thought of all those people eternities away…

_People who will never know of sorrow or pain or passion. They will never know disappointment or hate or terror. Not like me, not like this. They will never think of what they have, what they are. Normal..._

Ha! What a mocking word; it rang through his mind, echoing his self loathing and every memory of every sin he had committed. But how he wished, longed, burned to be normal! If he had not been born with this…this… face?

_Hardly deserving of the word._

He despised himself, as, it seemed, did everybody else in this pitiful world.

_Why me? Why, God, did you have to do this to me?! _

How many times had he thought that… And never would God answer.

Erik sat seething, drowning in his own self hate and pity, waiting for the mornings chill to cool his mind. He did not normally enjoy daytime, or anything in the light. But mornings were somehow different. It was when night faded until the only memory of it was the bitter air not yet warmed by the sun; it was when groggy dreams were real until the hard face of reality woke you. It was when Erik sometimes came to sit on Apollo's lyre, raised above the unknowing world, thinking of everything and nothing, watching those innocent people, infinitely different than himself, living their own beautifully ignorant lives.

He breathed deeply, letting the cruel, ugly self be carried away with the leaves, and becoming another person, a normal person, far away from everything he truly was and everything he despised. He was now handsome and loved and…_normal._ He smiled beneath his mask. It was only here he could be normal, away from everything and everyone; for it was here he dreamed.

Many minutes passed as Erik sat, watching the sunrise, a quiet, peaceful look in his eyes, dreaming of Christine loving him as he loved her and her dancing and singing and being happy. Then he saw something move out of the corner of his eye. Glancing over to his left, he saw a sparrow hopping it's way cautiously towards him on the ledge. Staying perfectly still, he watched happily, a sudden childlike glow in his yellow eyes. The bird cocked it's head but continued toward him. Catching his breath, Erik slowly reached out a long, skeletal finger, afraid the bird might flee. But it did not, and so Erik hesitantly moved his hand closer, but the sparrow panicked and flew quickly away. His hand dropped and he sighed. They always run away…

His gaze turned back to the sky; the sun illuminated most of the city beneath him.

_Christine will be awaking soon… _

He felt that glorious feeling of becoming something he knew he could never be, of feeling something he would never feel, he felt it disappear as quickly as the magic of the morning being scorched by the heat of day. His eyes dulled as he grudgingly remembered the actuality of his sad existence.

_Christine… I must get back to her soon. She should have found it by now._

Mentally preparing himself for a torrent of tears and curses, he spared one last glance at the vanishing peace of daybreak now shattered by the sounds of horses and men going about their normal lives, until he climbed down from Apollo's protecting arms and hurried through the maze of rafters and trap-doors and passages which led him back down into the very heart of hell where his angel was awaiting, or fearing, his return.

TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

Erik, when he arrived back in his house, quickly made a light breakfast and knocked quietly at Christine's door.

"Christine?...Are you awake?" he said softly though the door.

There was no reply but he could clearly hear rustling and knew she was.

"If you wish, I have a nice breakfast prepared in the dining room. You may come when you are ready, should you choose to."

Walking somewhat dejectedly back to the kitchen, he made the resolution to let her go the next day. He would have freed her that day, but, while he had watched the world below him up on the roof, he had come upon an idea which he sorely hoped Christine would enjoy...

While he was thinking, he heard a door open and close behind him, accompanied by Christine's light footsteps coming towards him. He turned and held his breath at the sight of her; every time he saw her he was taken aback.

_How can you do it, my love? How do you grow prettier every moment while I grow older and uglier? Why must you taunt me so?_

She looked at the ground, oblivious to his thoughts, and sat down, saying nothing, cradling the locket in her small hand. Recovering himself, Erik set a plate of fruit down in front of her and stepped back, waiting for her to say something about that abominable jewelry. But she said nothing except for a faint "Thank you" when he set the food down. He nodded slightly confused, yet relieved, and, determining she would not want him anywhere near her, began walking out of the room. She looked up suddenly and spoke louder- "Thank you…Erik." He turned back, smiling sadly behind his mask. "Anything for you, Christine." With that he left and she looked back down at her plate, blushing.


End file.
